


Their Minds Entwined

by dappercat



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Abstract Imagery, But some suggestive metaphors, F/M, Lots of hands and fingers touching for some reason, No actual physical sex or anything graphic, One Shot, Post-Episode: s10e08 The Lie of the Land, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy, Tension, Unbeta'd, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11227737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dappercat/pseuds/dappercat
Summary: It's more than sex between them.Missy and the Doctor have telepathic not-sex. Not much else to say.





	Their Minds Entwined

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one go and it hasn't been beta'd or even rewritten at all. I just blerghed it out onto a page. I really like the idea of Time Lords having 'sex' (or their equivalent of) with some telepathic element involved. And the tension between Missy and Twelve is palpable. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

It's more than sex between them.

 

Time Lords, being how they are, dropped reproductionary sex around the same time they dropped taxes, and frankly it was a lot cleaner for all involved. No more messy fluids. A good step forward for Gallifrey, she thought.

 

Lesser beings saw looks and heated touches and assumed it was all guaranteed to end in urgent skin-on-skin contact-- as if that would ever be enough to satisfy what existed between them. It would be laughable if it wasn't so sad. It would be laughable if she didn't desire him with every fibre of her being.

 

They were sitting now, facing one another. The hum of machines-on-standby alleviated what would've otherwise been suffocating silence here in the Vault. She was conscious of it. One of those machines was her Cage, and it sat only feet away, dominating the room even while it lay asleep. She felt restless. Loose but not free; unearthed from the inner sanctum but barred in by the outer. It was enough to drive a sane person mad, so it was a good thing that didn't apply.

 

His eyes were dark in this regeneration. Flintier somehow, closed off and serious. Older. Not like his early ones, where he'd chosen an older body but couldn't shield the light-hearted youth dancing in his pupils. This was age inside and out. An acknowledgement, or a resignation, she wasn't sure which. He was looking at her quietly and intently, and she was looking right back. Under his gaze she was being unpeeled, layer by layer flaking off. Such a sense of nakedness she found only under his eyes. 

 

“You're warm,” she said. Almost a whisper; not quite brave enough to be one. Her hand was on his, lightly, ever so lightly resting her fingertips on the back of his hand. He hadn't moved it since she'd touched him. Her hearts were fluttering but she hoped she poised a face of inquisitiveness, not nervous energy. His skin was looser than the last time she'd been this intimate with him. Heavy with wrinkles. She'd tried to emulate him with her own appearance. She wanted them to match.

 

He said nothing. She made as if to shift closer-- he stopped her with a word: “Missy.” Low and full of meaning. Off-balance, she returned his gaze with confusion until he shifted his hand from under hers and lifted both hands to her temples. 

 

“I- I-” she stuttered; she wasn't ready. She wasn't ready for him to see her, spread out before him, trembling virginal at his attentions. 

 

“It's all right.” His hands hovered, an inch from her skull.

 

“It won't be,” she said, helplessly.  _ I'm rotten to the core _ , she didn't say.  _ I'm broken. _

 

He said nothing and she let him. He pressed the tips of his warm fingers against her head and she closed her eyes as he did, shuddering under his touch. 

 

_ the untempered schism- _

 

_ home. and wonder  _

 

_ doctor. doctor. healer. heal me. _

 

They spiralled together. His mind in hers and her mind in his, clutching at one another like desperate lovers, echoing and spitting pictures of Gallifrey and home and childhood days in the suns. 

 

He crept into all her dark places and she let him, she collapsed under him, she spewed at him dark memories of murder and pain and suffering at her hand and he gathered them up in his arms and kissed them. He remembered they were not so different; here were his own memories, his dark spots. He took her hand and threaded it through their cascading rapids. She trembled in gratitude and unfurled under him like a rose. 

 

_ missy. master. conquerer.  _

 

He let her into him, into the very root of him, and he dug up out of the earth his heroism and adventure and put them in her hands. She squeezed and he fell to her, but she was already pulling at them, molding them into longer strands, encouraging their growth and sinking them back into the soil they came from. He showed her the seed of his love for her, and she bit it whole into her mouth and spat out a new fruit with her own love enwrapped around his. They dug into the red grass of Gallifrey and planted it there and the suns rose and sprouted its silver leaves. 

 

_ i am yours. i have always been.  _

 

_ you are mine. you have always been.  _

 

_ doctor. master. lover.  _

 

_ the last of time _

 

**

 

When she awoke, he had left. Next to her chair, on the small oak sidetable there was another book for her to read from his library. She curled her fingernails against her palms. Her head ached and she imagined she could still feel the press of his fingertips on her temples. 

 

She rose. She trailed her hand over the hard book cover and dipped her fingers into its embossed golden pattern, then left it, ascending the steps to where her piano sat, waiting expectantly for her. 

 

She rested her hands on its smooth ivory keys and looked, once, at the Vault door. It sat unmoving and solid, and she wondered how far he’d wandered.

  
She played a love song. 


End file.
